“Hello, Jack. How was work?” I greeted politely.
“Work has been…difficult lately. I spent an entire day with my team of accountants. I will never understand why someone would want a career crunching numbers.” He let out a sigh.
“Sounds like a long day,” I replied conversationally. “Dinner is ready.”
“Will your mother be joining us?”
“She’s tired from the flight,” I answered simply, the thinly veiled lie flowing off my tongue.
Jack looked lost in thought for a moment as I grabbed two dinner plates. “My late wife was tired often.” I didn’t like that he was comparing my mother to his deceased wife, but I nodded. “I’d like to speak with her soon. I have a few questions about Joseph.” Jack set down his briefcase and breathed in the smell of dinner. I watched him, my entire body on edge. Jack continued speaking as I served both of us. “I’m sorry it took me a bit longer to get her here than we originally agreed upon. Joseph wasn’t as willing to let her out of his sight. I’m not sure if it’s because he genuinely likes having her around or if he fears losing control over her by sending her away. My son has always been a selfish fucker.”
I breathed in. “How did you get Mom here, by the way?”
Jack answered easily. “I told him that some photos of Lilah with a black eye had surfaced and that he perhaps needed some space to acclimate to DC and cool down. I also told him I wouldn’t stop the photos from making the papers if he didn’t comply.”
“You blackmailed him? Do you even have photos?”
Jack grinned. “I was bluffing, but he doesn’t have to know that. My son doesn’t like airing out his dirty laundry. It is easy to bury your own faults deep when you only have to convince yourself that you’re perfect. It gets harder to do that when the world is pointing its finger at you. I’m ashamed of what he’s done, Vera. I’m not sure he would have let your mother come here if I hadn’t done that.”
It was jarring to hear Jack speak so candidly about his son. “Well, let’s eat, yes?”
“Yes. Speaking of, there’s plenty of food here. Why don’t you invite Hamilton to dinner?”
I prayed the floor would swallow me up. My chest constricted with a palpable pain that made breathing difficult. I knew this was coming, but I still hated it all the same. “You want me to invite Hamilton to dinner?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jack replied simply. “I would.”
“He won’t come.”
“I think he will. It’s worth a try.”
I let out a shaky breath and stared Jack down. A deal was a deal, I’d just hoped for more time to convince my heart that Hamilton was bad news.
“Fine. I doubt he’ll even answer,” I said.
“I think my son will surprise you,” Jack replied easily. His cocky behavior reminded me that he’d built a political career with that smug smile. Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I clicked Hamilton’s name and turned on the speaker. I wanted Jack to listen to this. It made the call feel less personal.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Then went to voicemail. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Jack.
“Leave a message,” he said.
I ground my teeth as the line beeped.
“Hey, Hamilton. Um. I just was calling to see if you wanted to talk?” My voice sounded lame. “I made dinner if you’re hungry. Feel free to call me. Or don’t.” I quickly added that last part, then winced. “Okay. Bye. Hope you’re doing well.”
I hung up the phone and let out a huff of air. “See? He didn’t answer.”
“He could be busy. Let’s eat before dinner gets cold, hmm?”
My heart was still pounding from the embarrassment and adrenaline of my call to Hamilton. I felt like a fool, leaving him that message. At best, Hamilton would think I was pathetic and block my number. He wasn’t the type of man to like clingy women.
I’d just sat down at the table with my food when my phone started ringing.
My eyes connected with Jack’s. He grinned triumphantly, and the eager look on his face made me rage. Sure enough, Hamilton had called me back.
I answered after taking a deep breath, making sure to put him on speaker so Jack could hear the conversation. It made it feel less…personal. “Hello?” I croaked. I’d never felt so small or so stupid.
“Why the fuck did you call me?” Hamilton asked. His booming voice made me tremble. It was an extremely unexpected greeting.
“I just…”
“You just what? Thought we could talk about our feelings?”
I squeezed my eyes to force the tears from falling. Why did he sound so angry? I was the one that got hurt. “I just wanted to—”
“You just want my dick, baby? Is that it?”
“I just wanted to talk,” I repeated. “I thought maybe—”
“You thought maybe you meant something to me? You thought maybe I wanted to talk to you? Sorry, but if you wanted to hear me apologize so we could fuck and make up, then you’re wasting your time.”
I looked at Jack, who was scowling. Good. This needed to happen. Even if it broke me. Even if Hamilton took what little hope I had left and stomped on it. “I was mistaken. I apologize.”
“Fuck yeah, you’re mistaken. Don’t call me again. I don’t want your forgiveness. I don’t need your used-up pussy, either.”
“I’m sorry,” I croaked.
“Say it out loud, Vera. Say Hamilton doesn’t want my used-up pussy. It’ll help it sink. In. Go on.”
“I’m not saying that,” I whispered, ferocious anguish boiling to the surface.
“Aw, you almost sound convincing. You do whatever I ask, don’t you, Vera? You’re so easy to manipulate.”
“Hamilton!” Jack interrupted. “Stop that right now. The poor girl just wanted to chat.”
My cheeks were stained with tears. My heart pounded with a pain so achingly haunting that I had to catch my breath. I knew that Jack speaking would send Hamilton further into a rage that there was no coming back from. A few beats of time passed. “What are you doing with my father?” Hamilton asked, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“My mother is staying at Jack’s house for a little while. I’m here helping her get settled.” Hamilton went silent. “I’m sorry for calling, Hamilton. I won’t do it again.”
“Let me be very clear, baby,” Hamilton said in a sinister tone. “I don’t like you. I barely even wanted you. I used you up, little rose. Now there’s nothing left but the stem, and I’ve got no use for thorns. But hey,” he added as I nearly crumbled from the pain, “thanks for the pussy. It was fun while it lasted.”
“You’re disgusting,” I barked, the outburst surprising me. “Let me make myself clear then, Hamilton. You hurt me. You should be groveling right now, begging for my forgiveness. You’re lucky I even called, you bastard!”
“Then why did you call, hmm?”
My throat closed up. “I—I don’t…”
“Exactly. I’m not begging for something I don’t want, Petal,” he whispered. The endearing nickname caught me by surprise.